


In Which Jim Fails at Writing Love Letters

by imagined_haven



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-14
Updated: 2011-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagined_haven/pseuds/imagined_haven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard isn't sure who keeps sending him these anonymous love letters, but whoever it is really has a lot to learn about the art of writing love letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Jim Fails at Writing Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek the Federation would be screwed over. Therefore, let's assume that I do not. Nor do I own the poems quoted here (except the first one, and then not even the format), which are, in order of appearance:  
> 1\. "Love Sonnet (2)"- Joyce Hemsley  
> 2\. "A Million Times"- author unknown  
> 3\. "How Do I Love Thee?"- Elizabeth Barrett Browning (only one line quoted)

When Leonard received the first anonymous message on his PADD he assumed it was from some poor ensign too embarrassed to actually talk to someone about whatever medical condition or question he had. It had happened before, and Leonard knew it was likely to happen again. However, as soon as he opened the message he knew that this was not what he had expected.

The brief message read:

> _Roses are red  
>  Violets are blue  
> I’d really like  
> To sleep with you_

Leonard was lost. Who the hell would send something like that? Of course, his first thought was Jim, as the man had the romantic sensitivities of a bull in a china shop, but he was reasonably certain the captain would spare his best friend from his horrible attempts at poetry. He just wasn’t sure.

Unfortunately, the anonymity of the message meant he couldn’t send a scathing reply. That didn’t mean, though, that his fingers didn’t itch with the need to type something back. Leonard forced himself to temper the urge, noting the juvenile nature of the attempt and the utter lack of originality as reasons he should just ignore the damn poem and walk away.

Besides, why should he waste his time on something that was most likely a prank and would never happen again?

* * *

When another anonymous message appeared Leonard was undeniably curious. It was only, though, a desire to see if the poet’s skills had improved any. It had nothing to do with wanting to see what was said, or so he told himself.

The message began with:

> _Dearest Leonard,  
>  By now I think everyone knows my first love letter to you was less than ideal by your standards. Since my poetry fails to impress you, this time I shall attempt prose._

By beginning the letter as such, the anonymous writer revealed two things. Firstly, there was no way in hell this was Jim. The last time his friend had called him “Leonard” had been... well, never.

Secondly, the writer had not been deterred by the gossip that had spread like wildfire after Leonard had casually discussed the matter with one of his most talkative nurses. Whoever this was was a brave soul, and Leonard had to give him or her credit for that.

As his only concession to the writer, he read on.

> _Anyhow, as I may have mentioned before, I think we’d be about the hottest couple ever. Getting into your pants and finding out just how skilled surgeons’ hands really are have been at the top of my priority list for a long time, even above graduating from the Academy (which probably wouldn’t surprise you if you knew who I was, but you don’t, so ha ha :P).  
>  You’re totally amazing, so I’ll even give you the chance to respond this time using a method a bit easier than the ship’s gossip network! Just send your reply to the address I’ve posted below, which is obviously a fake, and I’ll see it!  
> I won’t give this any sort of epithet for a signature. The only one that comes to mind is “your secret admirer” and that’s so grade school._

The first thought in Leonard’s mind was that he was being propositioned by anonymous message. That had to be a first.

The second was that clearly this person clearly had some ideas about love letters that needed to be remedied. Unable to help himself, he quickly composed a reply.

> _I won’t give this a salutation because I have no idea who you are and I refuse to make something up.  
>  I don’t know why you think that love letters are the same as solicitation by message, but they are two different things entirely and you clearly need to be educated on the difference. The term “love letter” implies feelings other than lust and thoughts that do not involve genitalia.  
> Also, who the hell uses emoticons anymore? Where’d you find out about them, some site about ancient messaging history?  
> Leonard_

* * *

The one constant in his week was finding Jim in his quarters when he returned from shift on what would have been Friday night had they not been in space far outside the Terran solar system. “Hey, Bones,” he said, looking somewhat subdued. Had Uhura turned him down again? No, that couldn’t be right; Jim had never taken that seriously anyway.

“What’s going on that has you lookin’ like a kicked puppy, Jim?” he asked, never one to beat around the bush.

“Well,” Jim replied slowly, “I kind of want to impress someone with my epic skills at writing love letters. The only problem is I know I don’t have any.”

“And you expect me to help you why?” Leonard demanded, not sure where Jim was going with this.

“Come _on,_ Bones!” Jim declared impatiently. “What happened to the Southern gentleman over the centuries that he can’t write love letters anymore? Please, help a buddy out?”

It wasn’t the dig at his ancestry that moved Leonard; it was the fact that Jim had said “please” for once in his life. Whoever this girl was must have been important to Jim, and he wasn’t sure at all how he felt about that. “All right, Jim,” he sighed, sitting at the little desk. “Get over here and pay attention.”

Jim perked up instantly, bounding over to sit on Leonard’s lap. Used to this after years of rooming together, he knew the only response that would actually work would be to shove Jim off, and he did so quickly and efficiently. Miffed, Jim huffed at him and proceeded to look at the PADD over his shoulder instead.

Efficiently, because Leonard had always appreciated poetry, he brought up some of the better love poems from Earth’s past. Jim looked them over before sighing. “I just don’t see the appeal.”

“That’s because you don’t have a romantic bone in your body, Jim,” Leonard retorted. “There’s a certain tone to these, and they’re about more than your seemingly endless fascination with kinky alien sex rituals.”

“Could you read it to me?” Jim asked.

 _“What?!”_

“Could you read it to me? Maybe if I hear the tone I’ll get it.”

Leonard sighed. “Which one?”

Jim pointed at random. “That one!”

Leonard glanced it over to make sure he was looking at it right, and began to read in a soft voice, gently stressing the more romantic words in the phrases.

> _“Can you see how I adore you?  
>  Bliss brings lovelight to my eyes  
> You speak - I hear a symphony  
> Flowers dance, the bluebird flies._

> _“When first we met, I just knew  
>  No other soulmate could there be  
> To settle deep within my heart  
> And cherish its key eternally._

> _“Playing our parts for all to see...  
>  We are ‘Sylvia and Dante Rossetti’  
> Whene'er we talk, where'er we walk  
> Moon and stars sprinkle confetti._

> _“Bliss brings lovelight, never gloom  
>  Shall we dance where roses bloom?”_

After a brief period of silence, Leonard looked over his shoulder at Jim. Ordinarily the captain would have instantly voiced his opinion. Instead his eyes were closed and he looked enthralled.

Making sure not to raise his voice, Leonard attempted to prompt a response from him. “Jim?”

Those blue eyes slid open lazily, looking hazy and misty and distant. The poem had clearly had an effect on the younger man, despite any claims he would later make to the contrary. Suddenly attempting to mask it, Jim blinked rapidly a few times and stood, crossing to the door. “I have to go,” he announced before all but fleeing the room.

Leonard looked after him, confused. What the hell was going on?

* * *

The next day Leonard received another message, and he didn’t even bother to grumble before reading it. He was still too confused by his friend’s actions.

> _Leonard,  
>  There’s no way you won’t be able to tell who I am after this, so I might as well just be perfectly honest right now. I love you, and I’m pretty sure I’ve felt that way for a long time. You’re absolutely the most amazing person I’ve ever met, so full of heart despite everything that’s happened to you, and it makes me honestly glad to say I know you.  
> If you don’t feel the same then that’s all right. I won’t bring this up again; I just thought you deserved to know._

Attached was what had to be one of Leonard’s favorite love poems of all time, despite the continued anonymity of the author.

> _I have seen you a million times  
>  And every time I see you    
> I fall in love with you all over again    
> My heart starts to race    
> My frown turns into a smile    
> And all my worries are now in my past    
> When you smile at me my heart melts    
> You give the sweetest hugs    
> Every time you hug me    
> Your smile is like a new day    
> Your sense of humor is like no other    
> The ability you have to make me smile    
> Is all you need you love me    
> Your laugh is so soft and sweet    
> Just looking in your eyes    
> Makes me melt inside    
> Your lips look so soft    
> Soft enough to kiss    
> You, yourself relive me from all pain    
> Your hands are as soft as a pillow    
> The way you comfort me is amazing    
> Every time we say good-bye    
> I start to cry    
> I say good-bye to you too many times    
> I said good-bye to you a million times_

The writer was right. It was painfully obvious that he had been wrong this whole time and it was Jim sending these. Then again, he was thankful he hadn’t known at the beginning because he would’ve been even more certain it was a prank.

Leonard looked up as the door to his office hissed as it slid open. Jim was standing there, gaze averted and booted foot scuffing against the floor.

He wasn’t about to have any of that, and so he dragged Jim into his office and forced those blue eyes to look up at him. He was amazed by what he saw, the blend of love and hope and doubt and fear lending the cornflower blue a heartbreaking beauty.

Leonard smiled before quoting the first line of a poem even Jim would recognize. _“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...”_

Their first kiss was every cliché ever found in the old romance novels that Leonard _didn’t_ read, damn it, slow and soft and sweet as they gently explored the feelings created by their contact. Jim slid one hand up to tangle in Leonard’s hair and another to cup his cheek as Leonard’s arms wrapped themselves around Jim’s waist, ever so gently tugging him closer.

They were so wrapped up in each other that Leonard barely noticed when a nurse stuck her head into his office, gasped, and left immediately. He was most definitely otherwise occupied, and he would be that way for a long time.  



End file.
